Long Excepting Poems
Long Excepting Poems. Below are the most popular long Excepting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Excepting poems by poem length and keyword.
The caring bridge was very unexpected
why I'd survived a horrific traumatic
brain injury an yet my mind was desperate
to learn everything all over I was so
excited when I noticed my flaws while
holding a fork at my favorite restaurant
I forgot how to hold a fork I was so
embarrassed finally I got it what an
achievement I hoped no one saw
as I lifted the mashed potatoes to
enter my mouth to my surprise I
kelp missing my mouth hitting my
cheek my eyes were wide I knew
everyone knows my flaw now my
cheek covered in mash potatoes
it was in that moment I knew I had
to reach out find my peers people
like me broken injured filled with
faith and there it was a bridge
connecting family of all ages
races cultures traumatic brain
injury groups many spoke of
loved ones still in a coma hopeful
that they would spring forward
traumatic brain injury changes
you forever I never thought I would
forget to tie my shoe now my
beautiful children whom I taught
to tie thier shoes was now teaching
me take the loop around ma you
got it good job what color is this
ma it was purple it hurt my brain
I could only recognize yellow red
blue green primary colors nothing
as fancy as teal my favorite or
maroon these colors sent my
emotions soaring and it frightened
me that's okay ma we can try again
tomorrow brain injury affects the
entire family I was so happy to be
apart of the Caring Bridge family
hearing others speak out about
tragedy survivors faith courage
relearning excepting fighting
to keep my brain alive i wrote
uncontrollably constantly at
least ten poems a day maybe
yes my grammer was off missed
spelled words poems broken
sentences i would cry I realized
I was three years old pouting
sobbing coping with pain when
I reached out it was so amazing
a bridge of compassion kindness
finally that caring bridge connected
across America a caring bridge
of hands reaching out giving
supporting sharing caring amazing
generating lot's of hugs with simple
kind words completeness feeling safe
unafraid unashamed to be broken learing
to smile again laugh at your flaws and
get right back up embracing comfort
and joy that built this unstoppable
caring bridge connecting healing
hearts and minds by just caring
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
must we keep on in weakness
how long will it take us
to weak up
are we not done yet
in this pit of poverty
must we be always
the same
I thought we have our
destinies in our hands
I thought we are the
owners of our mind
so how much more
will we keep excepting
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
we fight each other
we are not in love with each other
we fail to unite oh africa
while we keep hoping
for the perfect stranger
to come take our problems
away
we refuse to believe in ourselves
yet we need each other
we reject to build each other
yet we are strongly building
the home of the perfect stranger
who is busy hunting on us
what a pity what a love
we are so in love
in love with the
love in the eye of the perfect stranger
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
we are so in love with this strangers
they have brought us a lot
fights for justice
they have abused our dignity
enslave our own
devalued our ancestors
stole our treasure
destroyed our culture
imposed their ways opinion
civilization on our life's
still we remain blind
instead we are busy
loving the stranger
we changed our spiritual
life's for no good
what a love
we are so in love
in love with the
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
our women are our prides
yet our streets are full
of helpless girls
abused raped
by this strangers
a perfect stranger
indeed
our women are to be protected
cos out there this strangers
are wild
wilder than our welcomes
they are the devils we cast
in our prayers
they are friend to those
who oppress our freedom
they are the mentor of our
grieves
they are no good friends
what a perfect stranger
yet we are still busy in love
in love with the
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
always at first
this strangers always
comes to us with a perfect
smile and with an eyes
full with love
their words are so comforting
so much sweet words
fall from their lips of lies
they always have a gift
neither do we know
it was an exchange
what a stranger
a perfect stranger
yet we fall in love
in love with the
love in the eye of a perfect stranger
My heart is depleting, it is becoming thin and fragile.
I can feel it slowly crumbling.
The pieces have started falling to the floor.
They instantly shatter.
I try to pick them up,
yet my fingers are sliced from the shards of black glass.
I want to collect all the pieces,
put them back together to make my heart Whole and beautifully alive again,
but I continue to slash my fingers wide open.
I’m unable to put it all back how it once was.
Without my beating heart I have no energy, no love to give.
I want to lay down and not think at all.
I don’t want the small fragment that is barley still dangling,
to fall and shatter,
continuing to building upon all the tiny particles below.
The Pieces on the floor are now soaked in blood and tears.
I feel I may never recover.
I no longer know who I am or why I am even here.
Everything seems lost, dark and horribly hopeless.
I pray that the one shred of this coal heart will turn pink and grow.
That somehow it can expand and create a new heart,
a stronger heart that will beat loud and full of pure love.
I have given myself healing time to process everything.
The tears from my eyes are finally dry,
the sliced fingers wounds are now healing.
I can see clearly now,
I look upon the lifeless broken pieces of my heart,
still clustered on the floor.
I can see that they no longer serve me.
My heart had turned so weak and frail because it was not reviving any love.
I put my freshly scabbed fingers to my chest,
to feel the flicker of the one piece of heart still hanging on.
I close my eyes and send pure love to it.
I realize I need to love myself and love my heart,
that is what it needs to grow and become whole.
Self love,
being completely excepting and fully in love with me is the answer!
It’s so obvious to me now,
I’m grateful for my old neglected heart,
it is no longer trying to survive off the love of others,
scared when it didn’t receive any,
for now I don’t need it.
I have myself and that’s who completes me.
I thank the shards as I sweep them off the floor,
my feet are now ready to dance upon where they once lay,
so thankful that the body I never thought would want to get up again is thriving,
flourishing once more!
Rejection Slips 4
Editor's Notes
by Michael R. Burch
Eat, drink and be merry
(tomorrow, be contrary).
( and complain
in bad refrain,
but please, not till I'm on the plane!)
Write no poem before its time
(in your case, this means never).
Linger over every word
(by which, I mean forever).
By all means, read your verse aloud.
I'm sure you'll be a star
(and just as distant, when I'm gone);
your poems are beauteous (afar).
Less Heroic Couplets: Rejection Slip
by Michael R. Burch
pour Melissa Balmain
Whenever my writing gets rejected,
I always wonder how the rejecter got elected.
Are we exchanging at the same Bourse?
(Excepting present company, of course!)
I consider the term “rejection slip” to be a double entendre. When editors reject my poems, did I slip up, or did they? Is their slip showing, or is mine?
Ode to Postmodernism, or, Bury Me at St. Edmonds!
by Michael R. Burch
"Bury St. Edmonds—Amid the squirrels, pigeons, flowers and manicured lawns of Abbey Gardens, one can plug a modem into a park bench and check e-mail, files or surf the Web, absolutely free."—Tennessean News Service. (The bench was erected free of charge by the British division of MSN, after a local bureaucrat wrote a contest-winning ode of sorts to MSN.)
Our post-modernist-equipped park bench will let
you browse the World Wide Web, the Internet,
commune with nature, interact with hackers,
design a virus, feed brown bitterns crackers.
Discretely-wired phone lines lead to plugs—
four ports we swept last night for nasty bugs,
so your privacy's assured (a threesome's fine)
while invited friends can scan the party line:
for Internet alerts on new positions,
the randier exploits of politicians,
exotic birds on web cams (DO NOT FEED!) .
The cybersex is great, it's guaranteed
to leave you breathless—flushed, free of disease
and malware viruses. Enjoy the trees,
the birds, the bench—this product of Our pen.
We won in with an ode to MSN.
Keywords/Tags: rejection, rejection slips, write, writing, poet, poets, poems, poetry, internet, social media, society, culture, virus, viruses, viral, coronavirus, malware, world wide web
Thank you for coming into my life,
For making me smile,
For brightening up my days.
Thank you for understanding me,
For listening to my words,
And everything I had to say.
Thank you for all the encouraging words
That you always gave to me.
Thank you for always believing in me
And never doubting me.
Thank you for being there
When I needed someone,
When I needed you there.
Thank you for taking the time
To share with me,
To always let me know you care.
Thank you for always
Lending a shoulder,
When I needed someone to cry on.
Thank you for being
A really great friend
And someone I can rely on.
Thank you for excepting me,
For me and who I am.
Thank you for not judging me
And believing in who I am.
Thank you for your trust ,
For your honesty and your love.
Thank you for never lying to me,
And never giving up.
Thank you for your true self,
And not giving me someone fake.
Thank you for always believing
And always keeping your faith.
Thank you for giving me you,
And all the rest to come.
Thank you for taking me and loving me
The way I would have wanted it done.
Thank you for coming into my life,
And making things feel better.
Thank you for all your support,
And knowing I can count on you whenever.
Thank you for seeing past
All of my imperfections.
Thank you for seeing into my heart,
And encouraging my expectations.
Thank you for opening up my eyes,
To see what a great person you are.
Thank you for making me your inspiration,
And making me your shining star.
Thank you for always making me laugh,
And wiping away the tears.
Thank you for the times we've shared,
And those yet to come of many years.
Thank you for respecting me,
And all my goals and dreams.
Thank you for always pushing me,
To become who I want to be.
Thank you for all you have given to me,
And all that you have shared.
I thank The LORD ALMIGHTY in heaven,
For making us a pair.
For blessing two souls to become as one,
For loving me just because you care.
I thank GOD everyday for you,
And for all of my happiness.
Thank you GOD for my new life,
I have been TRUELY blessed.
THANK YOU !!
Alicia Griego 2/12/02
Form:
Conquistador, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s tercets : Conquistador
Message to fellow soupers: I have been trying to upload, in vain, yet another translation of a
Paul Verlaine poem titled: "Ballade in favour of those called Decadents and Symbolists" since 28/09/2013, so if anyone is interested in reading it, just Google it or go to my pages in other poetry sites like PoemHunter, PoemsAbout, ZCommunications, etc. Thank you. T. Wignesan
(Published in « La Revue blanche », April 1894 , under the title : « Mal de mer » ; and « Pall Mall Magazine » November 1894. Source : Jean-Yves Favre’s Paul Verlaine : Œuvres Poétiques Complètes. Paris : Robert Laffont, 1992) T. Wignesan
My heart looms heavy as the ocean waters rear
From having left behind a cherished being dear
Who grows sad by the day, embittered by fear
Over the oceans, alas I must depart
With the heart stout and the soul stalwart
Even if from the Queen exile I must out
Exiling myself only to return to pasture
Though much more joyous beckons the future
Than thoughts of remembrances’ adventure…
My heart has grown alike by many a wave
Pushed up in an enormous mass concave
Immense breast upon which the world doesn’t rave…
O ! so far a away to be safe from fear
Yet left without care the being so dear
Excepting just that which holds down one tear.
I board ship while the tempest rages
With this hope which keeps gnawing for ages :
To find treasure which my quest assuages.
To bring back to her in merriment :
Gold, silver, pearl and diamond
With my heart as a supplement.
The waters rage, the ocean pregnant bulges
Terrible state : falling and rising spasms
Stooping low to make huge chasms.
Struggling as though forming a tomb
While with courage and with aplomb
The sailor wrestles even as waters loom
Meanwhile without respite the hurricane
Cradled like an infant lost in dreamy bane
The ocean holds to course or inhumes sane
Dreaming of gold by masses and more
Filling up infinite rows of corridor,
For my Sovereign, my life I lay down ever more…
November 1893, London
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Have you met, good old Grandma Goodie, Goodie,
With her gingerbread house of sweets emporium,
Tasty treats unwholesome to eat, but oh in pleasures
Indulgence, she corners the market, the bitter,
To the sweet, with her delicious confectionery delights.
Skip, skip along the forest path of the unknown
Trail, it’s the only way to find this elderly ladies,
Fabled cottage of gumdrops and Lully pops.
Crumbling bread crumbs did you leave behind, a mark to
Follow but the black birds did eat them, piece by tender piece.
So lost you became in the wilderness wild, that you feared never
To escape, from this evergreen forest of nightmares.
Oh brother's grim, did the futures outcome look bleak until you,
Spotted, good old grandma's goodie, goodies emporium sign.
Come in all little children, and dine.
As giant candy canes lined the walk ways
Entrance of honeycomb’s of flavor to savor.
It taw’s late the hour for which you arrived,
But this elderly dame entered with a heart felt
Welcomes deepest desire, come along child
Of man, whatever you most wish will appear by
Your sweet tooth’s command.
She’s just a sweet elderly gran after all,
What harm could there be in excepting her
Hospitality, beware, says the phrase do not
Take candy from strangers comes to mind!
Nibble, nibble on her gingerbread window sill,
And fast asleep shall thee fall, under a witches
Ungodly spell, incantations evil enchantress,
Hidden beneath a grannies disguise of lavender
And white lace.
But illusions fade with the light of day,
And darkness must shed their masks of deception,
Before striking at their intended prey.
Yet modern technology, rings the apps sounding
Bell, awakening me from this childhood story gone
Cannibal!
As I take a deep signs breathe of relief,
My clock radio goes off, and on it is a
Commercial break, advertising a candy shops
Grand opening, just then a chill runs right
Through me freezing my blood to the bone,
Come along the announcer speaks, to Grandma
Goodies emporium of delicious treats,
And I promise you won’t be disappointed
My dear friends and listeners.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Were going to the Florida Keys! Were going to Florida Keys!
As I mentioned we were on our way to the Florida Keys...
it was my mother, father, my sisters and me the brother of the family,
driving down the road for what seemed to be an eternity,
we always stopped at different places between the two this time especially,
the reason being, the mother of the family is now to be excepting.
So she's extra hungry! Eating for two and craving the craziest of foods,
she pretty much had the whole East coast to choose.
My dad driving, my sister Debby and I going back and forth,
if were not for the sake of that game boy!
Now we have reach our destination,
were on Cudjoe Key! It is about 80 degree
and first I run straight to the edge of the of peer, were it looks
out and over the clearest water anywhere near Dela-Where?
The peer looks out and over the Gulf Of Mexico just amazed, excited
and anticipating exactly what ever it is that they have plained to do next,
The next day we were out to sea, all on board the The HammerHead outboard!
My Pop-pop being just as excited as me, to show us all the secret fishing spots!
my dad and I at the captains orders.
With fishing lines casted in crept the board-em,
then the noise of the reel on the pole humming the tune of something, finally something!
as my pop-pop flung back on the pole "hooking" the fish, he calls for me to take control
reeling and getting tired quick, we all soon realized it wasn't just a fish for us to consume
it was actually a Hammer Head shark!
it wasn't any bigger then about 3 foot long it was still very strong, and still as dangerous
as it looked,
Not second guessing the situation, the adults took control with all their
experience cutting the fishing line, but not before we got to take a good
long look and a couple pictures of this...
this shark the particular one that my pop-pop named his boat after,
now with a story to last a lifetime and a few kodak memory's of this specific time
only to hope as I'm watching the sun set that me and my family will soon have a story
just like this one to rewind.
Robert c Bessel jr.
2/23/2014
Did oz turn its posterior, when Dorothy stole those ruby shoes?
Something over the rainbow’s smelling pretty ominous.
Opposites attract, like evil and good. a conflict’s brewing -
The west’s witch is rolling out her plans over a drag’n coffee.
The Rainbow Sun, reports a stirring, of the proverbial pot.
Manicure parlors and parades, shut down in Emerald City.
The horse of many colors has been dyed brown - his cover.
Wizard is wise, to the thievery ways of the “Jayhawker”.*
Glynda, “the goody goody”, sells lies like lemon drops,
And rainbow spectrum opposite, is “crazy” for green.
Dorothy, now “Dot”, begins a band called the “Polkadots”,
Promotion of forward movement, to take over Oz’s perimeter.
The “Ruby Shoe Movement”, an agenda to eradicate “good and evil”
Uses cursory verbiage, to rid the land of a “horde of witches” (two)
Flight line lights up, with soldier monkeys ready to attack.
Those who join the Kansan side, the Polkadots croon, while
“Rubyites” applaud, break out in rainbow song - waving banners.
The horse shakes his mane in dismay, a spy for the arcadians.
Amidst the Rubyites - a cowering lion, a heartless can of tin,
a befuddled scarecrow, and a toy dog. Excepting the dog,
All were acquired on the jaundiced road. It stretches between
The Emerald palace and the village of fisher price people.
Dot grew courageous, when she took a lucky shot;
She steered her cyclonic house, killing the witch of the east.
She swept the streets, greedily shaking hands with
Cheery munchkins. Pulled off the shoe heist like a pro.
Not a witch, she claims, but clicking the butane of her heels,
Catches oz by surprise, chaos ensues. “Get the balloon”,
The wizard blasts, “I will distract her and her Rubyite buffoons”
He sends them chasing after brooms in the gloom of night.
Fortune returns, delights in her prize – a melted wicked witch, and broom.
Henchmen throw weighted bags over Dot’s crew, retreating them back to Kansas
we were taken again beyond the gates of katyn
I'd begun to challenge morale feelings over a sudden
stench bellowing from under the chartered tanks
silence abroad Auschwitz my knees chattered
while facing the cold damp window pane my heart
nearly shattered non responsive I suppose
I would remember small things like the empty clock
that sat on the night stand the coil spring the map
to belzec replaced with dead dandelions comfort
had become a slow moving line as we awaited for
the hot brass to brand our pale skin softly I whispered
why I must be next as the grunting hot breath
crawled down my back my only solace was hidden
inside the hem of rags I wore a passage read gravely
among Dante's most ravishing canto's oh how wretched
the mere past times that wandered aimously about
my arched form I'd remembered not to slump focusing
on the Catholic medallion of st Francis clutching it within
my raw chafed fist full of sores and blisters how pretty
I felt still while uniformed guards exposed the white letters
s and p the special kind policing the line leading this
morbid place I remembered my grandmother had gone
before us and now an awakening sight sang out through
this mist of fire breathing almost just beyond the palace
my memory of stale sourdough bread and hot potato soup
why I'd been here before clinging to life's treasures
I'd carefully opened excepting the gravity and useless attempts
of sparing the poor soul's behind me the line moved
yet again screams filled thee earths air as though
the sun had finally fallen into the ocean blue covering
thy living flesh I'd spoken calmly while meaningless
madness aroused my being over come with a past so
very well known memories of my father and not of my own